


Coming Home

by LouPF



Category: Dyrene i Hakkebakkeskogen | In the Forest of Huckybucky (2016)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Backstory, Headcanon, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Masks, Metaphorical Masks, Minor Original Character(s), Original Character Death(s), Smutty, as in, but that day is not today, claus doesn't go around carrying a literal mask, i love how that's a tag, i might write that someday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-29 23:20:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15083963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LouPF/pseuds/LouPF
Summary: One of the first skills Claus learns is how to pretend. He learns, more out of necessity than want, to disguise himself and what he knows. He learns how to appear innocent – to have his enemies underestimate him or to not make enemies, he’s still not sure –, how to extract information, how to plot in a proper way as to not make anyone suspicious.(you’re just a mouse, you can’t harm anyone, mice are never suspected)(“people never see what they don’t want to see,” the old deer from his home forest told him once, “so there is no reason to even try and show them otherwise.”)(sometimes Claus thinks it’s a blessing, being born a mouse.)(other times his thoughts stray more towards curse.)**Or: Claus' backstory (my version) fleshed out.





	Coming Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Miriam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miriam/gifts).



One of the first skills Claus learns is how to pretend. He learns, more out of necessity than want, to disguise himself and what he knows. He learns how to appear innocent – to have his enemies underestimate him or to not make enemies, he’s still not sure –, how to extract information, how to plot in a proper way as to not make anyone suspicious.

(you’re just a mouse, you can’t harm anyone, mice are never suspected)

(“people never see what they don’t want to see,” the old deer from his home forest told him once, “so there is no reason to even try and show them otherwise.”)

(sometimes Claus thinks it’s a blessing, being born a mouse.)

(other times his thoughts stray more towards curse.)

* * *

He doesn’t learn that he’s easy prey before he turns five; that’s when he’s considered “big enough” to eat. Some predators go after him, then, chasing after him with the wish to devour him, bone and fur alike.

And here is his first enemy, his first real challenge – this is something that he cannot charm his way out of, something his ukulele (it’s cheaper than a guitar, easier to get by, easier to play) cannot help him out of.

Not for lack of trying.

It’s not before he underestimates a snarling wolf – or maybe it’s the wolf who overestimates him – and nearly pays with his life that he understands that there is more he has to hide.

So he learns how to pretend to hide his intelligence, as well. Not much of it, mind you, he hates dumbing himself down too much – but some of it must go. Some of it _can. not. stay_.

(“lies are more believable when they mirror the truth,” the same old deer said, and Claus, seven years old and having faced death more than once, nodded.)

_Your lies aren’t believable enough, Claus, you’re not good enough, they’re catching up with you, be more believable or nothing will ever succeed._

Those are the words that ring through his ears when he wakes up to find his house burning.

(he doesn’t remember getting out, most likely because he was pulled against his will, but somehow he gets away from the raging fires.)

 _“Ma_!” he cries, because all throughout his lies it has always been him being in danger, never his dear beloved mother, and now it’s too late. _“ **Ma**_!” he calls, but it’s _too late_ , and the house collapses.

* * *

He goes to live with Morten and his parents, and he’s – sort of happy there. He lets that pretended mask slip up far too often, but it’s fine, and his new family never mentions it.

He’s nine when Morten’s Grandpa is killed by a fox. It doesn’t bother Claus much, he’s been chased by felines and canines and even a rodent or two, but Morten, who’s lived a slow and gentle life, takes his grandfather’s death to heart and develops a fear of foxes that some might call healthy.

( _“_ they’re sneaky, those foxes,” the deer had said, “but so are all animals.”)

(claus doesn’t go around flaunting this, he knows that nearly no one will accept it, but he thinks about it in a quiet corner of his mind whenever it gets mentioned)

( _that’s just how foxes are, it’s in their nature, you can’t trust them, they’re evil_ )

(mice are innocent and they are never blamed and they are pure cinnamon rolls)

* * *

Another year passes, and then one evening that very same fox storms their house, and while Morten and Claus curl up underneath a desk Morten’s parents die trying to protect them.

Morten is whining loudly throughout the entire thing, and while Claus holds his paw he doesn’t really think about that; he’s too busy staring intently at the adult female fox, white markings on her paws and black tail-and-ear tips.

He doesn’t _see_ an evil, not-to-be-trusted devil. He only sees an animal wild from hunger getting food the only way she can – and she lays eyes upon Claus and Marvin, huddled together under the desk, and something within her eyes break.

She gathers Morten’s parents’ dead bodies in her arms and runs away. Claus is grateful, for Morten’s sake, that she doesn’t eat them in front of their eyes.

Claus doesn’t blame her, he can’t blame her, the same way he’s never been able to blame the animals he’s been chased by – the same way he’s never been able to blame himself.

* * *

Morten pulls into himself after that. The happy, cheerful boy that would join Claus in song without a second thought disappears.

Claus is sad at his loss, but he’s at a loss and knows that he doesn’t fully understand. There is nothing he can do to help.

* * *

They move to Morten’s Grandma, who lives in the Huckybucky forest, because that’s the only animal they can think of that will be willing to take them in.

* * *

She _is_ willing to take the two of them in, but she doesn’t have enough space in her small hut for both Claus and Morten, and Claus knows that he best move his ass out of the way. Morten is depressed and needs his family – Claus has diverted himself into a cold numbness and needs time alone.

(he doesn’t need someone worrying over him right now, he can’t take that, and he knows that Morten’s grandma will)

He finds an old house at the outskirts of the forest’s boundaries and settles in there.

It takes him three days to rework his mask.

(“lies are easier to believe if they mirror the truth”)

Claus comes out of the house a bright and happy mouse that loves to sing and play, and that sometimes can be just a tiny bit _too_ enthusiastic.

He keeps the cool, calculated parts of him hidden, and only lets out the parts of him that society would accept easily and without hesitation. Morten notices, of course, but he doesn’t mention it – not even when Claus keeps up the mask whenever he visits him.

But it’s horribly tiring to keep a mask on at all times, and Claus hates being alone, he can’t take it, not after the fire when he was eight, and so he tries to spend as much time as possible outside of the house’s four walls. It only makes it worse, but it’s worse in a way that Claus can take – as in, it’s only tiring, it doesn’t cause him panic attacks.

Then the cool numbness, the one Claus has been cloaked in since his mother died, breaks. It happens during a random afternoon, when Morten hugs his Grandma and smiles a bright, happy smile at her.

Claus excuses himself, goes home, curls up in his bed, and cries until his eyes are sore.

* * *

It takes Claus four months of living like this, with no family and no close friends, before he grows touch-starved. He’s heard of it, of course, knows what it is like and how some animals have big problems trying to overcome it, but he never expected that he would ever develop it himself. He’s always had a family, always had friends – his ma until he was eight, always there to fix up his cuts and wounds, Morten’s parents until he was ten, and after that, when he and Morten were running away to Grandma, they always had each other and huddled together in the middle of night to stay warm.

Claus doesn’t have that anymore, and when he huddles in the middle of his bed at night he only grows colder and colder until he’s lying there, teeth chattering, no matter how many logs are burning in the furnace.

* * *

There’s a fox living in the forest as well, and Morten is edgy and uncomfortable around him, although the fox shies away from all sorts of animals. Claus wonders how he survives, at times. Morten talks to him about how suspicious it is, but all Claus can see is a depressed animal who’s supposed to be a teenager but has had to grow up far sooner than he should.

(he’s like Claus that way, because Claus might be eleven in body, but most mice don’t even survive that long)

(and Morten might be the more mature one of them, but he only has the “gentlemammal-matureness” to him, the matureness that comes from being polite and knowing when to speak and when to shut up)

(Claus is mature in the way that he’s not innocent, that his eyes are haunted and dark, in the way that he’s had to pretend since he was two because _he’s a mouse but doesn’t act like one_ and he had a deer as a teacher once)

Claus imagines that the fox – he thinks he’s named Marvin, but he’s not sure – is a lot like him, in that he comes home and has to fight tears, in that he closes the door behind him when he enters his house and immediately sinks to the floor in a heap of desperation.

* * *

(Claus finds out the fox lives in a den, that he’s dug it himself and is oddly proud of it, and wonders how long _he’s_ been mature in the way that he’s not innocent.)

* * *

Claus has overheard animals talking dramatically about running out of tears, but he doesn’t actually believe it before he lies on his bed, tangled in his sheets, sobs wrecking through his body but eyes painfully dry.

He walks out the door the next day and is that happy, cheerful mouse once more.

(it feels, for the first time, as more lie than truth)

* * *

It’s not that Claus _isn’t_ cheerful, it’s not that he _isn’t_ bubbly, that he doesn’t enjoy singing, that he doesn’t like living – but that’s not _all_ there is to him, and it hurts _so damn much_ to not be able to mix those two personalities, not to be able to truly be himself anywhere or anytime.

(he’s too tired of being happy, of forcing a happiness, when he’s in his house, and he _can’t_ be pained or broken or tired during the day)

(he’s so _tired_ )

(where others have some good days and some bad, where others are content, where others are neither hopping with joy nor bawling their eyes out –)

(Claus is split.)

* * *

He’s 14 and also so, so much older when he starts wondering if –

if society is right and that the old deer is wrong.

(mice are innocent they can’t hurt anyone they’re nice and scared and small)

(all mice Claus has met meet those requirements)

Maybe there’s something wrong with him.

(broken, he’s broken, he’s _wrong_ and _bad_ and different, but – no matter what he does or tries it’s _too late to change_ )

(mice)

(are)

( _innocent_ )

* * *

Claus doesn’t see much of Marvin

(the fox the fox the fox he’s a fox)

( _“_ they’re sneaky, those foxes,” the deer had said, “but so are all animals.”)

until he nears 16. “Good day,” he says to him, when he walks by, and Marvin gives him an oddly – surprised look.

The conversation is blurry, to Claus’ memory

(he’s a mouse a mouse a _mouse damnit and mice don’t **say such things**_ )

but he knows that he angers Marvin in some way or another –

and the next moment he’s running through the forest with a predator hot on his heels.

(pictures from his childhood flash in front of his eyes, but not in a “I’m near death” way, not in the way people say _I saw my life flash in front of my eyes_ -)

(it’s the times he’s been chased before, the times before everything went to hell, back when he still thought he was okay and not -)

Claus has to jump over a fallen log, doesn’t have the time to go around or in the condition to roll underneath it, and he –

 _laughs_.

(he realizes, shocked, that it’s his first genuine laugh in _three years_.)

* * *

Claus returns to his house, fur ruffled by the wind and legs shaking and heart beating in a way it hasn’t in many, many years.

He’s out of shape, he thinks, as he throws himself into his old chair. He grins.

* * *

The half-choked happiness left in Marvin’s wake doesn’t last long, though, and soon Claus slips back into the old desperation of

( _broken broken he’s wrong he’s **bad**_ )

cold, lonely nights and exhausting, mind-numbing days.

* * *

A week later Claus bumps into Marvin again, and – Claus expects him to go after him immediately, expects him to attack him in the way cornered animals do, expects to see the cool indifference that he’s seen so many times before, but –

Marvin sneers at him, expression otherwise unreadable, and Claus blurts out with a sarcastic “Isn’t it a wonderful day, Marvin?” before he can think twice.

“You don’t know when to quit, do you?” Marvin replies with an angry frown. There’s a low growl rumbling through his chest, and Claus finds it strangely enthralling.

“Nope,” he says, popping the P sound, and he leans forward with a teasing grin. “Hope that’s not a problem?”

Marvin lunges after him with a snarl, and Claus, hoping that this was coming, runs.

* * *

(“don’t think too much if you ever have to run,” the deer had said once, “it’ll go far slower”)

(this is, perhaps, the hardest advice to follow)

* * *

Claus is torn, terribly torn, because he’s not supposed to enjoy it, it’s not supposed to bring him joy, _normal_ mice tend to _avoid_ predators, rather than try to seek them out and to anger them

( ** _broken_** )

\- but he’s not like normal mice, is he? Never been, never will be -

( ** _mice are innocent, dumb, nice, defenseless_** )

\- but does that mean that he doesn’t deserve happiness?

( ** _yes_** )

* * *

The game of pretending… changes, after that. It was born from necessity to have his enemies underestimate him – and now, it becomes one of the means he uses to cover up that

( _he’s broken_ , _he’s wrong_ )

he’s smarter than they think.

It becomes a way to hide him _self_.

* * *

He stumbles across Marvin three times over the course of two months, and each time he eggs him a little bit more forward, each time his sarcasm is a bit more biting, each time Marvin looks more confused and more pleased than the last. After the third time, the half-choked happiness doesn’t last longer than three or four days, and Claus – realizes that, maybe, just maybe, he’s addicted to nearly dying.

It’s not a good feeling.

* * *

When he turns seventeen, it has come to the point where Marvin chases after him upon sight – and to the point where Claus seeks him out, just to experience the rush of the chase.

Nearly weekly, Marvin chases after him. It’s not before he turns eighteen that he starts to try and hide in open sight instead of just running away until Marvin tires. He climbs into trees, hides in holes that Marvin never try to dig him out of, runs in circles, jumps through a window once –

Marvin prowls around in the area for some time (sometimes hours sometimes minutes), shooting comments at Claus, some sarcastic and some angry and some sorrowful.

Claus learns to distinguish when Marvin’s playing, when he’s pretending, and when he’s genuinely mad. He rarely teases him when he’s genuinely mad. It’s a bad idea, he figures, even though he, at this point, somewhat… trusts the fox.

(he’s never hurt him in any way, not even when he could’ve sped up and caught up with him)

(the times he’s hidden in holes or underneath fallen logs Marvin has never ever tried to dig him out even though he’s an _excellent_ digger)

Sometimes, it’s – hard to tell, if he’s angry or pretending while he’s with others. Claus figures that it might be a mixture of both, that he’s somewhat like himself in the way that he _has_ to pretend and that he’s angry at that, or maybe that he’s pretending to be actually mad and is just a good actor, or that he’s secretly pissed and is trying to pretend not to be –

Claus thinks a lot about this, and his thoughts are very confusing.

( _foxes are sly you can’t trust them they’re sneaky and evil and bastards they kill they eat they murder_ )

(Claus wonders if Marvin has ever killed anyone with those sharp teeth of his; wonders if he’d be willing to tease him with them, if he’d ask; wonders if he’d be willing to growl darkly at him while smirking that pleased smirk of his)

(-that’s not something he’s supposed to wonder about, that’s not something he’s supposed to be thinking about at all, and oh god now it’s too late -)

( ** _broken_** )

* * *

It’s during his nineteenth year of living that Claus realizes that he and Marvin are – sort of friends. It’s during his nineteenth year of living that Claus realizes that he trusts Marvin more than just “somewhat”. It’s during his nineteenth year of living that Claus realizes that they know more about each other than they tend to let on.

* * *

Sometimes he feels like they’re balancing on the sharp edge of a knife; one failed step might send then spiraling down in the wrong direction.

(love or hate, he can’t quite decide which is the “wrong” in the equation)

Sometimes he feels like he takes a wrong step, like he’s about to slip from the knife, or maybe like he’s about to be cut in half. Sometimes he considers taking that wrong step just to purposefully fall face-first into either of those two options, but he has a feeling that he won’t be able to decide which one he’ll fall in, so he doesn’t take the chance.

(the image of that knife comes to his mind many a time during his dreams, when he’s cold and shivering and sniffling tearlessly in a ball on his own bed, and in his dreams they’re laughing as they walk on the edge, laughing, the both of them, happy in a way they’ve never been before)

* * *

And yeah, Claus knows Marvin isn’t happy. It’s not that hard to tell, when one knows what to look for, and Claus has seen it in himself, has seen it in Morten, has seen it in Morten’s Grandma – and he sees it in Marvin.

(“people don’t see what they don’t want to see”)

(foxes are emotionless vessels for a greater evil, don’t trust them, don’t believe in them, they always have a hidden motive)

Claus isn’t surprised he is the only one who notices that Marvin has accepted his faith yet is still struggling. He understands what’s going on with him, sees where he comes from –

(“people don’t see what they don’t want to see, so there’s no reason to even try and show them otherwise”)

(young Claus had tilted his head and asked, “is there a point at all, then? why not just be the way they want you to be?”)

(the deer had looked at him, hard and long, before replying. “some try. if they are successful, it’s never good for them”)

(Claus understands now.)

* * *

Marvin obviously follows the same rules that Claus do – a lie is more believable if it mirrors the truth, and so Claus is always left wondering _how much of that is a lie, where’s the mirror, how much does it reflect_.

He figures that Marvin is mad, that he is angry,

(Claus understands he gets it he wants to be mad as well but he’s so _tired_ )

but that he’s also hiding part of himself – a part that only comes out when he sings, when he sasses at Claus from the bottom of a tree trunk, from right outside of a hole, from the other side of a window, when he’s all alone or with animals he trusts.

(Claus knows that Marvin isn’t happy, but he also knows that he’s the happiest of them)

* * *

When Claus is twenty, Morten decides to write that Law of his, and Claus votes _yes_ because he cannot _not_.

“One shall not eat another,” Morten reads aloud, and Claus winces in sympathy for Marvin, because he can see through his games and knows that that’s the excuse he uses for getting his food.

(he realizes too late that Marvin’s excuse for chasing him is gone, now, as well, and his heart sinks)

* * *

Bernie Jr. is kidnapped, and Claus feels more exasperated than frightened.

He carefully wraps his exhaustion in layers upon layers of sadness and worry, and somehow it works, somehow his exhaustion manages to trick the others into believing that he cares.

(he cares, he _does_ , but he’s _so damned **tired**_ )

* * *

“Has Bernie Jr. gone missing?” Marvin asks, eyes wide and bone clattering to the ground by his side. Claus knows he’s not acting, not pretending, not playing – and he feels himself wobble on top of that knife.

Marvin helps them search, goes down on one knee to talk to the squirrel kids, and not once does he appear threatening, not once does he speak in a hard or rough voice.

“I’ll go look for him,” Bernie says when they find out that his son is at the farm, and Marvin immediately adds a determined “ _me too_!” and Claus isn’t sure if he wants to try and regain his balance.

And, oops, when Morten nearly dies and Marvin swoops in to save him at the last moment, Claus gives a helpless shrug as he falls from the knife. It’s not like he wants to resist.

* * *

“Finally showing your true colors, Marvin?” Claus chirps cheerfully during Bernie’s birthday party. His eyes are innocently wide and sparkling, grin wide, but he hopes that Marvin listens to his words and not the way they’re said.

The fox blinks, then his eyes widen, and he inhales softly.

Regaining his composure, he huffs, smirking down at Claus, and scoots over to make space at the bench for him. “I’ve always done that,” he says, and Claus raises an eyebrow.

“Well, it’s never been this clear,” he says, and when he notices Morten looking at him with a frown he hurries to turn towards the table and stuff a cupcake into his mouth. He pretends to listen to Marvin with only half an ear; he’s never been more interested in conversation than food.

“And you think you’re the right person to talk about this?” Marvin asks, eying his eating with amusement.

Claus shoots him a sharp look, asking him silently to _not you fucking bastard, there’s a reason I’ve kept it secret for ten years_ , before he returns to the eating and says, “Yes, I do think so.”

Marvin huffs amusedly again, turns away from him, and takes a sip from his cup. “Oh, I’m not surprised.”

Claus lets it slide. They’re both tired and angry and not at all happy with how the world is. Not much to do about that.

* * *

Later the same day, the same party, the two of them find their way over to the edge of the hill. They sit there in silence, the moon hanging in the sky above them and the soft murmur of the party at their back.

Claus can tell that Marvin drops his mask easier than him, sees it in the way his shoulders slump, sees it in the way his ears droop, hears it in the way he lets out a strained breath when he turns away from the others.

After a few minutes in quiet peacefulness, Marvin exhales. “You going to drop that mask anytime?” he asks, and –

Claus wants to answer, he wants to give him a clear reply, wants, _wants, **wants –**_

( ** _Marvin_** )

“I – _can’t_ ,” he grounds out. The mask has nearly become part of him, like a cloak he can’t take off, so he just wraps it tighter around him –

“Why not?” Marvin asks, words he’d say any other day but tone one that Claus has never heard before.

Claus struggles for a moment, the cloak tightening around his throat and his words and his joy, before he tugs harshly at one ear.

( _it’s fine you can tell him you can drop the mask you don’t have to be the cheerful one anymore, not now, not with him_ )

(“trust nobody,” the deer had told him, “if nobody trusts you”)

(Claus isn’t sure if he’s broken this rule or not.)

“I – it’s – been so long, been _too_ long -” he stutters, and he’s _trying_ , but he just _can’t get it **out**_.

Marvin looks at him for a long time, and Claus, who can usually tell so easily what he’s thinking about, can’t read his expression. “Do you even know who you are?” Marvin asks, and when Claus buries his face in his paws and shakes his head, he doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around his shoulders to pull him against him. “Not a word,” he says, and it reads as a warning, his voice dark and quiet and low.

Claus’ breath shudders, but he leans into the embrace, leans into Marvin’s side, feels his tail brush across his back and settle in his lap.

“I’m not saying anything,” he replies, eyes falling shut against the very, _very_ welcome warmth of Marvin’s body.

(god, how long has it been since he was in physical contact with another animal in a way that wasn’t just a fleeting touch?)

( _too long_ )

Marvin shifts, wraps his other arm around Claus as well, and he feels – so strangely _safe_ in his arms, in a way he hasn’t felt since he was eight, and for the first time since he moved here Claus –

_drops_

**_the mask_**.

He twists, just slightly, so that he can wrap his arms around Marvin’s torso and press his cheek against his chest in a way he’d never let himself do with anyone or anywhere else –

( _mice are innocent and nice and good and happy_ _and never need stuff they’re always content and_ )

(Claus has never been able to show that he needs something, but he _does **need** **this**_ )

After a pause where neither of them breathes, Marvin rests his cheek on top of Claus’ head and exhales shakily. “No,” he says. “Apparently you don’t.”

* * *

Claus learns, later that night, that his touch-starved-ness only becomes worse if he knows what he’s lacking.

* * *

And then he can _finally_ start calling Marvin his friend out in the open – it won’t be frowned upon, the other animals won’t look at him in shock, won’t scrunch up their nose at him and ask _“why_ ”.

Of course, Claus has been calling Marvin his friend for almost four years, now, but he’s not sure if Marvin returns the feeling until he openly laughs at a joke Claus makes.

(and then he can _finally_ start feeling like himself again)

* * *

They stumble around a bit, in the beginning, unsure about what exactly they have and how well they know each other, unfamiliar with this dynamic and how they’re supposed to act around each other – but after the first odd talks Claus shrugs and delves head-first into it, willing to go wherever it pulls him as long as Marvin’s there.

They start talking together more often, in more comfortable settings than before, and that is something they stumble around in as well. The sarcasm is still very clear in their speech patterns, in their thoughts, and it isn’t until a few weeks has passed that Claus manages to convince Marvin to just _be, Marvin, I know it’s hard but just **be**_.

Claus helps Marvin find food in some of the ways he knows; teaches him how to act when visiting someone, teaches him what he can eat and what he cannot, teaches him songs and shows him how he uses his ukulele to his advantage.

Marvin shows him how to let the mask go, how to mix his two conflicting personalities until he’s _himself_ , and how to let other’s thoughts slide over you without caring.

(Marvin teaches Claus how to love again, how to care, how to be attached to someone, but Claus doesn’t think he knows this.)

They teach each other how to smile, and how to laugh, and how to joke.

They walk together, under the trees and through fields of tall grass. They talk together, calm conversations deep in the forest and light-hearted banter while they’re walking. They run together, beside each other, when Claus becomes too snappy or just wants to let out some pent-up emotions.

Claus falls more in love with each day that passes, but _can’t bring himself to tell him_.

( ** _broken_** , he thinks, and he _must_ be, for falling for a fox and then not being able to even confess)

(but it’s harder to say _I love you_ than he thought, when he was seven and he called it over his shoulder before running out of his home with a smile on his face)

(it’s harder to love when he thinks that he doesn’t deserve it)

(and he doesn’t deserve it, does he, he’s not a good animal or a good mouse, he steals and lies and tricks and isn’t innocent or nice to all he meet and he _needs_ things)

( ** _broken_** , he thinks, and he wonders just how right he is.)

* * *

It’s not that he doesn’t try and tell him. It’s not like he goes around and purposefully keeps it a secret, because it fucking _hurts_ , and Claus had no idea that love could feel so painful.

(one time when he’s walking out he looks up at the night sky and his chest _aches_ , and it’s sudden and abrupt and _Claus_ _needs **Marvin**_ )

* * *

It’s nighttime again, Claus walking next to Marvin on the path and gazing up at the stars with a thoughtful look, and he feels at the tightness in his chest and wishes that it’d just go away for one damned minute.

Marvin looks over at him, halts mid-sentence, and frowns. “Are you okay?” he asks softly.

Claus doesn’t look at him, the tightness in his chest increasing. “When am I ever?” he replies. “When are _you_ ever?”

“I - ” Marvin says, “I’ve kind of gotten the impression that we’re mostly okay when we’re with each other,” he rushes, and it’s so unlike him that Claus stumbles on his path.

“-really?” he asks, surprise coloring his voice and forcing his eyes wide. “You really –”

“Yeah,” Marvin says softly. “Yeah.”

“Oh, good,” Claus replies. “Because I’ve – kind of been – the same, sort of.”

Marvin laughs quietly, his voice a dark rumble through the night, and when Claus shudders it’s not because of the cold. “You’re cute when you’re flustered,” he says with a grin, and Claus’ eyes widens, a primal thrum going through him at the words and the look he gives him and the tone and the _everything because it’s **Marvin**_.

( ** _broken_** )

(…)

( _but how much_?)

“-Marvin,” he says, and when he says the next words they shatter on his tongue and come out in shuddery pieces. “I – don’t think _you_ should - call me cute.”

This time Marvin is the one to stumble. “-okay?” he says, and it tugs at Claus’ heart that he sounds offended, that he sounds hurt, and he’ll have to explain now, won’t he? “How so? Does it _bother_ you that a big,” -his voice drops, and he turns to look at Claus with a fire raging in his eyes- “mean,” -his voice drops further, and now he’s nearly growling - Claus stills, head tilting back to stare up at him, breath catching in his throat - “ _fox_ ,” -and on the word fox Marvin takes a step closer, and Claus wishes he was taller, wishes he was closer, wishes he wasn’t a _damned mouse_ \- “calls you cute?”

Claus is ready to die when Marvin bends down in front of him until they’re on eye-level, and Claus can tell by the look in his eyes that he’s actually hurt by Claus’ words but that he’s not really angry at Claus but angry at the world and –

“Because you _are_ ,” Marvin growls, and _he is absolutely too fucking close and bloody beautiful in the faint glow of the moon_ , his muzzle hovering inches away from Claus’ right cheek and Claus can feel his breath against his fur when he exhales -, “and I think I’m entitled to call you whatever the _fuck_ I want.”

Claus’ breath is coming fast and hard, sounding ragged to even his own ears, and he isn’t even embarrassed at this point, he’s already admitted to himself that Marvin _definitely_ turns him on and he is very much turned on _thank you very much_ and oh good _God_ he **_needs_**. “- _yes_ ,” he gasps, and he tilts his head almost instinctively, knowing that his neck is now on full display. “ _Yes_ , Marvin, _God_ , you’re entitled to call – to _do_ -” He takes a moment to breathe, to collect his thoughts, and finishes in a rush and he lets out a hissed breath between clenched teeth. “ _Whatever the fuck you want_.”

Marvin immediately sobers up, and he pulls a bit back, and honestly Claus is surprised that he couldn’t smell his arousal earlier, but fine maybe he just doesn’t know how it – “Oh good God,” he breathes. “That’s why.”

(Marvin knows Claus isn’t scared of him, has never been scared of him, and really there’s only one logical conclusion to why he’s acting like this, why he’s trembling)

Claus looks away, and _now_ he feels embarrassment creeping up on him. Holy shit, what a way for Marvin to discover about this, as well. “ _Yes_ ,” he grounds out. “ _That’s why_.”

“Have a thing for being called _cute_ , do you?” Marvin asks, teasingly, and Claus wants to kick him for being such an idiot about it. “And for growling.” He drops the teasing air, flicks his tail in Claus’ face to trail down his neck, and murmurs a dark “Isn’t that right?” into his ear.

“ _Ah_ ,” Claus breathes, and honestly _fuck embarrassment_. “- _yes_ , yes, that’s – that’s very right, yes, good, continue,” he babbles, neck arching and paws twitching by his sides, and Marvin inhales sharply by his side -

“Oh holy fucking shit,” Marvin says flatly, and then he’s kissing him, muzzle sliding awkwardly over Claus’, but Claus doesn’t care he can’t care he _won’t care_ , only desperately kissing him back, paws coming up to cup his face and tilt it to get better access.

He runs his tongue over Marvin’s sharp teeth and moans into the kiss, which leads Marvin to pick him up _right then and there_ , and alright, Claus is perfectly fine being the height he is if it ends with Marvin pushing him up against a tree, and –

Marvin pulls away a bit, only to breathe against Claus’ shoulder and slowly, teasingly, lick the full length of his neck.

“Stop showing off your glorious tongue,” Claus breathes, eyes having fallen shut already, claws digging into the bark of the tree behind him, “and use it for something useful!”

“My,” Marvin purrs, and the word vibrates through his chest and Claus _whimpers_ , “aren’t we eager?” He nibbles at Claus’ skin, and at the sensation of his sharp teeth sinking into his flesh has Claus nearly descend into madness.

“ _Fuck me already_ ,” he hisses. “Stop teasing me -”

Marvin just continues to bite down his neck, slowly, excruciatingly slow, and Claus whines. He tugs his claws out of the tree behind him, reaches out after Marvin to tilt his head up towards him again.

“You can tease me _later_ ,” he says, breathless and somewhat begging but he doesn’t _care_. “I can go several times that’s fine but right now I need _you inside of me this fucking instant I have been waiting three years for this_ -”

“-three years?” Marvin asks, awed and breathless, and Claus opens his eyes to glare hotly at him.

“ _Later, Marvin_ ,” he growls, and Marvin grins before letting him down from the tree.

“Well, since you ask so nicely,” he says, and Claus doesn’t even _want_ to offer him a retort; he just flings himself at him and lets it be at that.

* * *

The love confession comes a bit easier, after they fuck and then make love in the middle of the forest.

Good for Claus that Marvin shares his thoughts on both fucking and loving.

* * *

They never have to talk about what kind of relationship they have; it’s made clear, in between soft kisses and small talk and laughter and sex, what they are, what they will be, what they always have been.

(that, of course, and the fact that Marvin marks Claus – and doesn’t that make for an interesting conversation, when Claus has to scramble for an excuse when Morten comments on it.)

* * *

(Marvin is warm he’s _warm_ and he’s so willing to share that body heat and Claus gets less and less tired for each day that pass and more and more like his old self, the self he barely remembers)

(of course when Claus goes back to his house he’s shivering within minutes because being touch-starved doesn’t go away that easily, doesn’t let go of your bones until you’re lying there in a pool of self-hatred)

* * *

Towards the end of autumn Claus’ 21th year the air begins to turn cold, as it always does, and Claus tilts his head at Marvin and says, “Isn’t your mating season coming up soon?”

Marvin looks at him with wide eyes. “Ah, shit,” he mumbles. “That’s – not good.”

“Tell me,” Claus says, grinning thickly as he leans forward, “how exactly does that work?”

“Oh, god,” Marvin says, running a paw over his face. “Okay, uhm… I – sort of. Need you. Close.”

“And what will happen if I’m _not_?” Claus asks, genuinely curious but also -

( _Marvin is warm)_

Marvin grimaces. “Most likely,” he says, wincing in either embarrassment or extreme embarrassment, “I’ll come find you and fuck you right then and there.”

Claus bursts into a round of laughter that sends him wheezing to his knees. “Oh, God – oh, yeah, yeah, I can – see how that would be – ah, _unfortunate_ ,” he mumbles, when he’s somewhat regained his senses. “Oh, well, then,” he says, grinning widely. “I’ll just have to stay with you for the entire winter then, won’t I? Not that hard.” His eyes widen when he realizes what he’s said. “Difficult!” he yelps, flailing his arms. “I meant to say difficult!”

Marvin laughs, gets down on his knees, and proceeds to pull Claus into a hug. “Alright,” he mutters. “My place or yours?” he asks, jokingly, and Claus knows he expects him to say _mine_ , knows that he expects him to shy away from his den, but

(Claus thinks of his house that’s no home, of how cold it is even when the fireplace is burning, of how some of the furniture is too small for even him)

(and honestly Marvin’s den might only be a hole in the ground, but at least Claus has heard Marvin call it home more than once, so.)

“Yours,” he breathes, his hold on Marvin’s shirt tightening.

Marvin draws a sharp, surprised breath. “-alright,” he murmurs. “I can do that.”

* * *

Marvin’s den is nothing like Claus expects. A hallway leads into an oval shaped room. Both the walls, the ceiling and the floor is dirt, although the dirt of the floor is hard like rock and covered by three carpets in different patterns and sizes. From the ceiling hangs a lantern, just dim enough to not be blinding but still bright enough to light up the entirety of the room. Up against one of the longest walls is a fireplace, embers glowing faintly in the hearth, and next to it is two dressers, one with a few books on top (four, all worn and old. Claus counts them) and the other with a potted plant (it’s in an old shoe, Claus notices later, and the thought brings him a smile).

Marvin has more of a sleeping place than a bed; the other oval wall has planks sticking out of it (also secured to the ground, of course), and on top of those are several mattresses that have been cut to follow the bending shape of the wall. On top of there again are several blankets and pillows, all in different colors, sizes, patterns, and materials.

Something cracks within Claus when he sees it, and he stops, one paw coming up to rub at his chest which is _again_ aching oh, so painfully. “Oh,” he says, and when Marvin looks at him his expression is soft yet unreadable at the same time.

“Odd, isn’t it, that a fox can create a home?” he mutters, and Claus recognizes that as something he’s heard about foxes before, whispered in corners and behind closed doors.

“Not so odd if one knows that a mouse cannot,” he replies quietly, thinking of the house he moved into when he came here and how it’s barely changed at all, and Marvin’s unreadable expression tilts into something warmer.

Claus moves over to sit in the sleeping area, and when he leans back against the pillows he nearly disappears into them. “Oh,” he says, from deep within one. “I think I can get used to this.”

Marvin laughs from over at the entrance, and then a scraping noise fills the air for a brief moment. Claus flails around for a bit, attempting to free himself from the pillow but failing somewhat miserably. “Do you need help?” Marvin asks, and Claus can hear on his voice that he’s smiling.

“Please?” Claus begs. “Your furniture doesn’t like me.”

“Nonsense,” Marvin grins. “They just like to give out hugs.” He helps Claus away from the pillow despite his comment.

He’s pulled some planks over the entrance, probably to keep out any cold, and now he makes his way over to the fire. There’s a heap of wood next to it, on the side that faces away from the entrance, and he hauls some of it into the hearth.

Claus smiles at him, knowing full well that he can’t see it, and comes home for the first time in a decade.


End file.
